


I love you, I’m sorry

by Catharrington



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Asexual Steve Harrington, Best Friends, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post Season 2, Roomates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington
Summary: Billy Hargrove wants what he can’t have. Always wanted a father who would love him, always wanted to be straight, always wanted things so far out of reach he was dumb for even trying. Billy wants Steve Harrington to like him back, but he knows he’s so far out of his league he’s playing a different sport. That is, until he isn’t.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 24
Kudos: 131





	I love you, I’m sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic dedicated to Gideongrace on tumblr, Happy Birthday!!!, and any asexual fan who would like to read some Ace Inclusion fics. This fic includes two short drabbles I wrote for the ace fic prompts on tumblr. I had a lot of fun looking into biromantic asexuals, how Steve identifies in this fic, and I really hope so so much y’all enjoy it :)

Getting an apartment together with Steve Harrington was completely by chance. But, just turned 18 and out from under the discipline of his father, oh yes, Billy could use a little flash of good luck in his life. 

There was a cork board right behind the door of the Palace Arcade that usually no one paid any attention to. Most days Billy doesn’t come by here any more, Max is a year older and doesn’t play as much, but sometimes its nice to revisit. Billy finds himself shuffling around and chain smoking while she fights to get her name back on the scoreboard. 

He notices the lititle cork board and gives it a fleeting glance, before he notices a flyer for a new building just built on the main drag of town. A huge brick thing with multiple units the landlord seemed desperate to fill. The grainy photo reminded Billy of some buildings back in California, tall and packed tightly together. Homely. 

He brushes his fingers over the wrinkled paper to rip off a phone number tab from the bottom. Turning around to slip it inside his breast pocket, he almost bumps his elbow against curly hair. Dustin yelps a little, it’s not cute, but before Billy has a chance to say something mean there’s a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Hargrove,” Steve pushes himself through the door and right up next to Billy. His fluffy, expensive hair smells amazing. It’s a really good distraction from the embarrassment of being caught inside the arcade. 

Steve’s eyes float over his shoulder to the cork board. He notices the paper still between Billy’s fingers hovering over his pocket. And Billy notices he is being too obvious openly staring at Steve’s pretty eyes. 

“Oh, apartment hunting? I ripped off one of those yesterday.” Then he smiles at Billy. “The rent is a tad high for an ice cream scooper, so I’ve been trying to think of someone to ask all day.”  
Billy knows what he’s going to ask. He isn’t friends with Steve but he’s apologized enough, he’s been nice enough, maybe he can have this one good thing. 

“Would you wanna be roommates?”

And maybe Billy is desperate and fast when he replies, but cut him some slack. “Yeah, Harrington. Yeah that sounds good.”

Then they are moving in. Billy has his Camaro’s back seat full of boxes and his bed strapped to the top. Everything he owns on wheels, all his clothes and photographs and records all inside his car. 

Steve brings his own car full of things and Robin helps, he’s got bags stuffed with clothes, posters to tack on the wall, and a small army of potted plants. 

At first, Billy was hesitant to meet Robin. He didn’t like the idea of a girl who hung around Steve with seemingly no ulterior motive than friendship. Smelled fishy weird to him, and it was not jealously. But she seemed nice enough with helping to move and cracking jokes along the way that let Billy see as much of Steve’s smile he could dream of. 

Billy watches them both curiosity as he holds the door open and they shuffle past each holding two potted plants. Steve is furiously blushing and can’t hold his stare. It makes Billy only watch him closer. 

“Didn’t take you for being a green thumb, Harrington?” Billy says, walking up to the dining room table now crammed with plants and a watering can. He feels along green leaves that are surprisingly soft. “Taking care of rug-rats ain’t enough, you take care of a green house too? Now that’s just downright,” cute is what he wanted to say, but Robin cuts him off with a slap of her palm on the wood table. 

“That’s just round one, Rocky. We have another car load with more heavy stuff for people other than Stevie to carry.” She’s sarcastic and gives Steve a push of her shoulder. 

Steve just pushes back. “Don’t say it like that,” he groans. He’s using his hands to free his floppy hair from his face, and smiling with one side of his lips nervously. Then he flicks his eyes to Billy without moving his head and Billy is sure he would carry anything he asked. Thankfully Steve doesn’t ask, but Billy still gives him a smirk and a shrug. 

“Hurry on then, man.” 

Billy doesn’t stop petting the leaves of the plant until Steve and Robin close the door behind them. 

He moves to lift the window that leads out to their little fire escape balcony, all hard metal rusted and creaking. He brings one pot out with tall green leaves. Setting it down on the edge so it can get back into the sunlight, he pets it again. And he’s thinking to himself how homely Steve was making this apartment feel. 

It isn’t for a week until they stop calling each other by their last names. They only come and go in passing, Billy leaving early for his lifeguard gig at the pool while Steve leaves later for the afternoon shift at scoops. 

Usually they don’t talk. Tonight is the first night they have off together all week and the only reason they know is because neither left yet, Billy playing loud music in his room and Steve lounging in the living room. 

The faux friendliness is stifling, and it’s driving Billy to lift weights harder than he ever has. Finishing his third straight count with a long groan, he sets the bar down heavy across his bench. The leather seat glossy with sweat reflects back his pinched eyebrows as he reaches for his water, only to realize he forgot to grab a bottle at all. Too stupid and desperate to burn this energy. So Billy dresses in a ripped up sleeveless shirt and slinks out to the living room. 

Steve sits on the couch a lot, watching MTV and flipping pages of magazines. Billy steps quietly past him to get a bottle of water from the fridge. He doesn’t mention how his music is still playing in his room obviously louder than the top twenty bullshit Steve’s got playing. Doesn’t mention how Steve hasn’t complained once. 

Then there’s a ring at their apartment’s intercom, a shrill static buzz that grabs both boy’s attention. But after the second time it rings out, Steve’s only reaction is pursing his lips and rolling his eyes. 

Billy is thoroughly confused. He drags his feet again over to the door and lays down on the button. “Yeah, what do you want?” He groans into the speaker box. 

“Hi!” The woman on the other side is way too perky for their lazy afternoon. “This is Shelly from Shelly’s floral arrangements and deliveries! I’ve got a delivery for Harrington! Can I bring it up?” 

Billy looks over his shoulder to see Steve hasn’t moved. His back is hunched but all he does is flip a glossy photo over with a sharp flick of his wrist. There is no way he didn’t hear this human greeting card through their speaker. Billy almost doesn’t think before he pokes the button to unlock the door. 

“Yeah, bring it on up,” he drawls, already excited to see what has Steve slouching. 

And that gets Steve spinning on the couch finally, his hair fluffed and eyes daggers. Pointed right at Billy. “Why did you do that?” 

Billy doesn’t know if he should feel satisfied or ashamed. He’s been making a point of saying out of Steve’s expensive great smelling hair, and wow if he just ruined it that’s great. “You’ve got an admirer, man. Don’t you want to see this?” Billy thinks it’s an innocent question, but Steve still throws his hands up in the air. 

Billy can’t ask more when the door knocks. It opens to a lady looking just as Billy imagined she would, holding a huge bouquet of purple flowers that Billy takes when it’s shoved in his chest. 

“I ain’t got a tip for you,” he says lazily, nodding down to his muscle shirt and short gym shorts. Shelly only laughs, winks then laughs, before scampering away. 

Closing the door with his heel, he turns back to Steve, flowers in hand, and trying not to smile to himself. 

“These sure are wild looking. Didn’t even know so many flowers grew so purple. This must be expensive? You run out on a babe or something?” Billy is rambling, he’ll take that description, as his fingers pull across one flower. Then he notices a small card poking out. Curiously, he grabs the card up and clears his throat out before reading it off. 

Steve is sitting with his back buried into the couch and crossing his arms, he is trying to ignore the whole damn thing but that doesn’t work when Billy’s standing behind the couch starting to read off the included card to him. Out loud for him, and for God. And oh, for Billy. 

“Hey, baby! I’m sorry about the other night,” Billy is laughing and Steve’s jumping up, “Sorry I grossed you out after the party and I'm sorry I tried to make you suck my...,” then Billy suddenly has his full of making fun of Steve for the day. 

Thin fingers pluck the card from Billy’s hand. Steve makes no bones about ripping the card into little shreds, throwing them like confetti across the coffee table, letting Billy take notice of the table top and that Steve has started day drinking without him. Nursing a chilled beer with two empty bottles behind it. Now all three are covered in paper pieces of confessions that should never have happened. 

But Billy isn’t laughing any more. 

Steve takes the flowers from his hands and sinks back down to the couch. His fingers are gripping the stems hard while he gives them a quick smell, torn between ripping them up too and enjoying how pretty they are. Finally, he just flops them down on a cushion. 

Billy is still standing behind the couch, now feeling like an unwanted rude as hell asshole, and he watches as Steve brings his knees up to hug them to his chest. 

“I’m-,” Billy starts. 

“Save it,” Steve cuts him off, then leans forward to drink off his beer. 

Billy shifts. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m gay.” He mutters it quietly. 

The last of Steve’s beer swallows down with a loud gulp. He’s got the glass still pressed to his lips, dragging it back and forth, looking over the rim to catch eyes with Billy.

“I’m asexual,” Steve whispers. His teeth clacking on the glass of the beer bottle. 

Billy heaves a sigh of release, because of course, his pretty boy Steve the Hair, the King, Harrington would be asexual. 

Billy just nods. Doesn’t moan or groan or say all he wants to say. He just nods. Then he points dumbly towards the bottle of beer kissing against Steve’s rosy lips. 

“Got any left?” He asks. 

Steve giggles. He moves to press the bottle into his forehead before he nods, gesturing towards the fridge. 

Billy collects two more, using the edge of the kitchen table to knock off the caps before going back to the couch. He sits far on the end, passes one beer to Steve who takes it with a smile. They sit and watch MTV mostly in silence with a huge purple bouquet of flowers wilting between them. 

——

Their living together becomes much more living together after that. Steve starts cooking more in the kitchen. He says “I was scared macho guy like you would think I was... don’t know- queer, or something.” Billy took one bite of the garlic tomato chicken Steve made and moaned around his fork. 

“I would have outed myself a week ago if I knew you were holding this out on me, pretty boy.” 

Steve’s cheeks flushed pink and Billy instantly decided he would never stop using that nick-name. 

One sunny afternoon Steve let’s Billy step out on the balcony and starts showing off all his pants. Explaining in detail their types, and what levels of water and sun, all with smile lines wrinkling his pretty eyes. Billy is only half listening, but he tries to pay attention. 

They stop hiding in their individual rooms so much, and that’s how Billy realizes that Steve doesn’t have a great taste in partners. 

It’s the second guy that Steve has tried out, the first one being that flower delivery boy, that comes to the apartment and tries to have a nice date. Tries the key word, he sets up in the kitchen and makes a right fit of all of Steve’s things. Billy is lingering in the living room, half smelling the burnt food and half wanting to death glare whoever thinks it’s okay to burn food in Steve's kitchen. When Billy gets called over by Steve. 

“Hey, man,” his little voice calls and it almost makes Billy jump. Steve is weaseling his way around their center island, one hand mid wiping whipped cream off his cheek, and the other hand holding distance between this other guy. 

“Yeah?” Billy replies. 

“Where do we keep the rags at?” And that has Billy really confused. The kitchen is Steve’s. Sometimes he lets Billy use it like a hallway to get to the balcony but most of the time it’s Steve’s domain. Even when Billy’s sick and wants herbal tea with a heavy spoon of honey Steve is up and making it for him. He’s anal about the placement of things. This is not some loose thing he should ask Billy. Unless that’s not it at all. 

Billy watches for one moment more, sees the knowing smirk lingering on this guys face. The way his hands are dripping with the whipped cream and how he licks his lips, and Billy is already getting tired of this guy. 

“Bottom left,” Billy rolls the order out heady. A little mean. He stalks forward and leans across the other side of the island counter because now this is his island. 

“Didn’t catch your name, friend?” Billy asks so politely. 

The guy falters his smile only for second. “Max,” he says. 

“Max,” Billy repeats dumb like. Testing the name out in his mouth. Knowing it’s useless because he won’t be here for very much longer. “Oh that’s fun. You know I have a sister named Max.” 

The guy, Max, smiles. He tries to turn to look at Steve but Billy isn’t finished speaking. 

“She’s my step sister really,” Billy’s voice is a cold mockery of politeness as he rolls his shoulders backwards, squares himself up. Readies his jaw. “A total bitch.” 

Steve snorts out a laugh, he hides the noise in a rag but it’s not quick enough. So he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself off more. That leaves Billy and Max in the kitchen. 

“You are going to clean these dishes, right?” Billy asks politely. 

And it’s not really a surprise when Steve stops using his days off to spend time with that guy Max anymore. 

Billy finds that’s just fine in his book. Because it’s more time spent eating food not burnt; and watching Steve’s pretty eyes light up as he waters his flowers in the sunlight. It’s more time spent existing and living together and learning about each other though passing. 

The piles of magazines on and under the coffee table are about as much Steve does for reading, but it doesn’t mean he hates it. Billy considers himself a high energy person; he used to surf and punch the shit out of people, and now he weight lifts and reads books. He might not seem like the reading type, but he enjoys it enough. He likes them thick and maddening. Plots that spiral. He’s got a whole row of Stephen King novels lined up top of his bookshelf. Steve notices, and to Billy’s heart’s dismay he asks. 

“That looks like a scary book?” They're on the couch one day, Steve presses into one arm while Billy has one elbow up on the other. Leaving a whole empty cushion between them. Days like this where Steve has time to kill he will pull his feet up and get real comfortable, so comfortable he stretches out his legs and pushes his cold toes under the thick of Billy’s thighs. 

“This?” Billy repeats dumb. He uses his thumb to hold his place while he turns the book to see the cover. “Pet Cemetery, yeah I admit it’s a little scary.” 

“You read a lot of books like that? With huge hissing cats and creepy cemeteries?”

Billy laughs, shrugging a little. “I mean the cat is just normal sized. But yeah, horrors my favorite. I think I’ve read this one like,” he turns away from the book cover to finally notice the way Steve is leaned in. The magazine resting on the table. The volume of the tv flashing neon green mute. “Like two times.” He finishes with a heavy swallow in his throat. 

“That’s cool,” Steve’s eyes are big and brown and so pretty. “I wish I could read stuff like that, but I would be way to scared to read it alone.”

Billy’s talking before he’s thinking. “Don’t have to be alone. I can read it out loud to you?”

Steve smiles at him brilliantly and so warm. “I would really like that,” he breaths out. 

And Billy has to catch himself from flubbering like a fish. He taps the edge of his book to his jaw to keep his mouth closed. “Alright. You want me to start from like the top, I’m not super far in so I wouldn’t mind-,”

“Nah,” it’s just a small breath of air Steve let’s out while he adjusts himself. Sinking farther down into the couch, pulling his arms up to cradle the back of his head, and burrowing his feet just a little more into Billy’s thighs. “Just keep reading. I’ll catch on to the big stuff.”

And just like that Billy’s drowning so deep for him it’s amazing Steve can’t see him bobbing like a fool. Billy reads soft and slowly, enjoying every minute of the steady pulse it brings to their little apartment. He enjoys the way it makes Steve look more well rested than he does most nights. When the book ends he curses it for being one of his shorter ones. 

——

A day later Billy’s out on their balcony, still in his lifeguard swim trunks now bone dry from the waxing afternoon sun. His legs kicked out on the iron banister and leaned back with his nose in a new book. The street below was slightly noisy with people coming and going before the sun fully sets. Billy only barely notices his roommate walking and talking, really only notices because he’s talking so loud. 

“Lets just call the whole date off then, okay?” Steve’s voice is a little high pitched. Billy picks up on that and his eyes fall from the printed word. He closes his book to listen harder. 

“I really don’t get you, baby, I don’t get what’s so wrong about having a little drink? A little good time?” The other voice belonged to Steve’s new toy, not Max, this is Mark or Mike or whoever. One time a week ago he was visiting and Billy might have spoken two words to him. Billy inwardly groans, already stuffing his nose back into his book, when Steve’s voice changes. 

It’s breathy and huffy and not good. “I just don’t want to! Why is that so hard to understand?!” Steve’s gripping the handle of their apartment building hard. Maybe hard enough for Billy to hear the wrought iron door shivering with the movement. 

“Can’t you just respect me?” Steve adds on the end. Billy’s already leaned forward over the balcony to look down. He’s taken aback by the wideness of Steve’s eyes. 

“Baby,” Mark or Mike, who cares, reaches forward and cups Steve’s cheeks. “Baby, of course I respect you.” He runs his hands down to Steve’s pale neck, across his zipped up jacket, and around to get a handful of his jeans. “I respect how hot you are.” 

Steve pushes him back hard. The guy stumbles a little, and Steve’s following with a sharp finger jabbing into his chest. “I’m not going with you tonight, or any night for that matter. Consider us done!” Steve demands and then turns on his heals to go inside their apartment building. His movements are so sharp Billy almost misses how hurt he sounds. How choked and thrown off his typically smooth voice becomes. 

His boy toy- now ex boy toy is stunned, but reaches out like he’s trying to follow Steve. So Billy lets his elbow slip just a little. Just at little so it doesn’t look like he moves but enough to send one of Steve’s heavier potted plants careening to the ground. It shatters right at the man’s feet, spraying him with soil and petals, and sending him scrambling into the street. 

“What the Hell?!” The man screams and searches around. 

“Oh, my guy,” Billy finally announces himself. “My dude. Almost took your head off with that, huh?” He’s leaned over the side of the banister with crossed arms and a sneer on his face. Obviously unapologetic. Obviously spoiling for a fight. “Watch yourself.” He warns. 

The man looks from Billy to the door, then back again, and finally walks off down the street. 

Just then Steve’s pushing open the door to their apartment. He’s a flurry of jingling keys and shoes flying off. His jacket is rolled up in a ball and tossed against the wall. Billy climbs through the window to come off the balcony and into their little kitchen. Steve’s running his hands through his hair and fluffing it up into a mess. Like he’s about to cry. Billy can notice. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Billy greets with a smile. Steve meets his smile with a weak one. 

“Bill,” Steve speaks shortly, dropping with a thud on the couch. “You… um… you hear any of that?”  
Billy feigns ignorance, his eyebrows float a little upwards, and he holds up his paperback book to wiggle it around. “Nope, just reading a little in the sun. Drying out my trunks from work. The usual.” 

Steve nods softly, his body already curling as he wraps his arms around his knees. He’s still looking like he’s about to cry. Billy feels like dropping another potted plant on that guy and not missing this time. 

Instead, he goes to plop down on the couch. Closer to him than usual, not fully pressed as far to one side as he can into the arm, but not touching Steve. “Yeah, Christine. It’s by Stephen King, you know, the horror master. It’s about this manic evil car.” 

Steve nods again. He’s debating pressing his face into his knees. Billy opens his book to where he folded his last page over and picks back up reading silently. Next to him, Steve is wiggling, fighting with himself. He’s always fighting with himself. Billy just wishes the rest of the world would stop fighting with him too. 

“Hey, Bill… do you mind…,” Steve’s voice is quiet. But Billy knows. The request doesn’t have to be said. 

“Want me to read out loud some?” 

He nods again, but he’s turned away from Billy so he adds a little breath of a “yeah”. 

So Billy does. He starts at the top of the page and makes his voice as deep and grounding as he can. Steve calms down next to him, relaxing enough to lean so slightly to the side he rests on Billy’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier, too. Doesn’t sound like a scared animal anymore. And that’s all Billy ever wants for his best friend.

It’s two days before Steve notices that he’s missing a plant longer than Billy was considering he would. Even when Billy explains why he did it Steve still throws his hands in the air. Yelling of “I can’t believe you would do that“; and reminders how old and expensive that plant was become harder and harder to bare. Until Billy is walking the aisles of a greenhouse near the edge of town he never has been and never wanted to be in his life. 

“I broke my best friend’s plant,” he admits to an older woman who smiles softly as he nods. 

“So you want to replace it for him?” She asks. Her eyes foggy with white. Billy swallows thickly. 

“I need to. He uh... he deserves something real nice.” 

She waves with one gloved hand over to a line along the end. Lots of pots all shapes and sizes are on shelves that look like they shouldn’t be able to support that weight. Billy walks behind her and keeps his eyes out, keeps looking for something to catch his eye. Something that screams Steve. 

She pokes one finger against a brick red pot holding a tall flower with huge white bulbs. It’s beautiful, Billy doesn’t hate it. But he can’t picture it nestled in their little balcony. He scratches the back of his neck as he starts to explain to her it’s out, when something catches his eye. 

Pushed slightly to the side, half hidden by the white one on the shelf, is a thin cacti. It’s color is a mossy green and it’s needles are thin and glossy, but the flower perched right at the top is half pink half brown. Billy reaches out his hand and touches the flaking blue paint on the pot. 

“Oh, that one is half dead. It’s not the best gift, dear.” She’s being helpful but she doesn’t know Steve. She doesn’t know that half dead prickly idiots is right up Steve’s ally for taking home. 

“I’ll take it,” he demands. 

Billy brings it back to the apartment first thing. Straps the pot to his passenger seat with the seatbelt to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere. 

When he comes back Steve is sitting at the kitchen table, ruffling though a pile of mail, thin white envelopes stacking and dropping like playing cards. Billy interrupts his fiddling with a smile. 

“Hey,” he’s in the archway for their kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Steve looks up, his eyes cloudy and slightly far away. “Hey?” he greets back. 

“So you know how I said I was so damn sorry for fucking up your old plant?” Billy starts. 

Steve rolls his pretty eyes, breaths a low laugh at how Billy’s phrased it. “Sure, I remember how mad I am at you.” 

“Yeah, even if that asshole deserved it-,”

“Bill,” Steve groans. Always giving people the benefit of the doubt. Always gets huffy when Billy shit talks people who deserve it. But he’s still got that cute smile on his face. So Billy isn’t too dethroned. 

“Yeah,” he says again, a grin on his face as he pulls out the cactus from behind his back. “I figured I could make up for it. Bought this ugly thing- thought it looked like it needed a good home.” 

Steve’s tired unfocused eyes brightens up almost comically. He leans forward in their rickety wooden kitchen chairs slightly, like he’s testing to make sure the offer is real. Then he stands up and crosses the short distance to Billy. Cups his hands around the blue painted pot and it’s flaky chips of paint coming off it. His fingertips brushing where Billy is also holding it. He’s got a look on his face that hurts Billy, a softness that he seems to only have in this apartment. Seems to only wear around Billy on his best days. And now he’s got that face for him, for something he did to make Steve happy. And it worked. He’s happy. 

“Bill,” Steve takes the plant, scoops it’s small ugly half dead prickly ass right up into his arms. “He's totally perfect, will fit in right next to the others.” Then a tick of silence as Steve absentmindedly strokes the brown leaves of the pink flower on top. “I love him, thanks,” he says that quickly, turns quickly afterwards to start out the window to the balcony. 

Billy has to catch himself for a second. Replay the scene in his head for a few times, slow motion replays, Billy blinks as he watches them. Then he cracks a grin. His shoulders rolling back with a display of haughtiness for no one but himself. Billy whistles low and long under his breath as he spins to go back to his room. 

——

It’s going on one year anniversary of the apartment. Their jobs and bills were never a problem. Billy was a good lifeguard and gets his job back whenever the weather allows. On the off seasons he’s working part time at the auto body shop in town. They don’t pay as well, and it’s a slightly annoying struggling to keep his end of the bills paid. He loves it though, working on cars, up to his elbows in grease, his hair tied back with a bandana so he doesn’t get any oil on it. 

Of course he prefers the sunshine of being a lifeguard, so now during the glowing summer months he’s driving back from his shift at the community pool. Still wearing his red shorts and canvas flip flops. 

Steve’s still got his job at Scoops Ahoy, doesn’t love it like Billy loves his, but he actually makes the more money of the two. So he sticks with it.  
And it’s usually not a habit Billy has of picking Steve up from work, he still has that daddy’s money expensive ass burgundy BMW from high school. Steve drives himself around just fine. Usually, unless like now he forgets to keep an eye on the tread of his tires until one of them pops. And rich boy doesn’t know if he has a spare tire in the back, hint: he doesn’t, so he just calls a tow truck and gets it sent to the shop. 

Now Billy’s on sailor boy taxi service until he gets a new tire. 

Billy parks his Camaro and steps out into the parking lot, slips a shirt on from his backseat just so he can go inside without trouble. 

The food court of Starcourt mall is unusually quiet. Robin is picking at her milkshake with her straw violently almost, and Billy is doing his best to ignore her. They are sitting across from the huge windows of Scoops Ahoy looking in as Steve finishes up his shift so Billy can scoop him. Robin is just counting down the time before she has to take his place. For Billy it cannot come fast enough. Because the food court is unusually quiet, and Robin is acting like she has something to say. 

Billy tries to focus on the way Steve smiles at a group of children, the way the light blue of his work place tshirt, swapped out from their gaudy uniforms for budgets sake, makes his hair a brighter shade of caramel. 

Robin’s next to him in a matching blue shirt, and she’s leaned forward. She definitely wants to talk. 

“Spill it, Buckley.” He groans. 

“Touchy, touchy, Hargrove. Who says I want to spill anything?” She snarks back. Billy turns to glare at the smile growing on her face. 

“You’ve been stabbing that milkshake so hard it’s going to turn to butter. Something on your mind? Wanna talk about feelings?” Billy puts on his best Austrian accent and adjusts an invisible pair of glasses on his nose. 

Robin’s laugh in reply is short. “Firstly. Honestly surprised you know how to churn butter, jock fiend.” She nods at his lifeguard shorts and long sleeve white shirt reading Hawkins Community Pool. “And second, it’s not my feelings.” 

That’s strange. “Then what’s up?” Billy’s not eager, but bored. 

Robin bites her lip a little. She turns to look at Steve through the window once, then back to Billy. And that makes his stomach tighten. “You know he’s just as gone on you as you are on him, right?” Billy looks down from her, suddenly very interested in his fries. “Like, I’ve seen the two of you taking turns staring at each other while the other one isn’t looking, and let me tell you… that shit is not cute.“ 

“It ain’t like that, Buckley.” He replies while jabbing a cold fry into his mouth. 

“Pretty boy doesn’t look at me any sort of way. So get that out of your head.”

She isn’t deterred by him talking with food in his mouth. She just rolls her eyes, propping her chin on her hand. “So that’s it? Huh? You think Steve doesn’t like you back?” 

“Didn’t say that-,”

“You don’t have to.” Her voice is softer but still scratchy with a little venom. It makes Billy ridged. “It’s obvious. And it’s also obvious he likes you. I’m telling you he stares and it’s gross.”

Billy wonders what she’s trying to prove. Why she’s trying to convince him of something she knows isn’t true. Billy’s even slightly growing annoyed at the implication of Steve wanting him that way, when she knows. She’s one of the few trusted enough to know. 

“Steve doesn’t look at me anyway and I’ll tell you why, Buckley.” He gets serious. She notices and leans forward on her arms a little. Billy motions her closer with a wave of his hand, she follows. They are sitting inches apart now so he speaks quietly, right into her face. “My huge fat cock, for one.” 

She draws a sharp breath through her nose and jerks backwards. “Hargrove! I should kill you for that!” She fists her milkshake and actually stands up from the table. A righteous lesbian flurry of blond hair, she’s great to pick on. 

“Leave it alone, okay?” Billy says hurried. Quiet under all her yelling. But she hears him and settles a little from it. Robin sinks back down into her chair. Hair still frazzled, milkshake straw moving in her fingers, but settled. 

“You know,” she starts again, softer than last time, “that’s not always a defining factor. It’s different for different people. Have you actually talked with him about it? Asked him how he felt?” 

Billy watches her. Has he asked Steve how he felt? Not in so many words. It’s always been easy with Steve. He’s got an animated face and talks with his whole body, his hair even gives away how he’s feeling like a cartoon character. Taller and brighter when he’s happy, dull and messy when he’s sad. Billy can read him, he’s good at reading him, but he’s never really talked to him. 

Billy pokes another fry into his mouth. “Nah, don’t need to. I live with the guy, come on. You think I would know him.” 

She’s furrowing her brows. Robin knows when Billy is full of shit. “Asexuality is a spectrum, dude. Maybe for once try and-,”

Then the glass doors of Scoops Ahoy are opening and Steve is walking towards them with caramel streaks in his hair and smile on his face. It was a good day at the ice cream prison, Billy doesn’t want to ruin that for him. He stands up shortly and moves to throw out his tray of food. Robin’s left sitting, churning because he cut her off, but Billy doesn’t care. 

He only cares about how breathless Steve’s smile makes him when he walks close. 

“Hey man,” and that smile turns away to Robin to fill her in on the shop. Slow day for customers, the freezer is messy, he forgot to mop the front again. Billy still watches and is still soaking in Steve’s happiness. 

Robin sees him from the corner of her eye. Billy thinks she can get bent. Her snarky comments were unwelcome, but maybe Billy could take some advice. Maybe instead of just reading Steve he could actually ask him. 

“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” Steve says towards Billy. He’s holding tight on the strap of his messenger bag and wearing one of Billy’s old denim jackets. Billy thinks about how Steve said it made him feel cozy one day, super warm; so after Mike or Mark or whoever broke Steve’s heart Billy casually lent it out to him. The look on Steve’s face gave him all that he needed. It still was. 

“I came for a burger, didn’t even know you were getting off,” he lies. But it makes Steve laugh. 

“Yeah- okay, thanks. Let’s go home? I really want to take a shower. I’m all sticky and sweaty and just not a good look.” Steve runs one of his hands through his hair and smooths it back to a neat but tall quaff. He smiles lopsided. 

Billy is already spinning his keys on his finger. “Lead the way, pretty boy,” he says.

——

Not a week later, Robin is on the phone with Steve. His fingers curling the long chord round and round as he chats, leaned against the kitchen wall next to where the gaudy yellow plastic hunk of a phone hanged. Billy was sitting on a stool at their kitchen island, leaned over stealing food while his skin cooled from his ripped up muscle shirt that left his whole stomach and chest exposed as he stole the carrot slices Steve chopped up. 

Billy watches as Steve’s eyes flick from the cutting board back to Billy. Then down again. There’s a naughty smirk on his lips as he lets the cord go from his hands like a loaded spring. Then curls it around his finger again. 

Billy has half the mind to take a handful of carrots and just leave, duck into his room or take a walk a couple blocks to a bookstore, but he stays silent and waits. 

“That was Robin,” Steve says when he’s finally off the phone. 

Billy watches him with cheeks stuffed with carrot. Nods to let him knows he knows. 

Steve takes the cutting board farther away to try and save some of their dinner. “She says she wants us to come out to a bar with her. She’s asking us to be her wing men with this new chick she’s trying to impress.” He rushes the words out, focus down on cutting more vegetables and not on Billy’s wide eyes. 

“A bar? Wingmen?” Billy blurts half chewed orange over the counter. 

Steve grimaces, but nods. “Yeah, Glow Bar- that little place outside of town? The are having some special show and she wants to take this cute girl she flirted with at scoops there.” 

“Robin, flirting with a girl?” Billy scoffed. 

“Well, it was more like the girl flirted with her. So she’s a little nervous.” Steve stoped to point the knife he was using towards Billy. “Y’know not everyone can be effortlessly sexy and confident with their flirting like you, Bill? Some people need help from their friends?” 

Billy stopped chewing. Watched the glossy blade of the knife pointed towards his chest. He wanted to quip back, oh pretty boy you think my flirting is confident and sexy... you think I’m sexy? But instead Billy only shrugs. Groans out, “I’ve got a feeling this is a bad idea,” before agreeing. 

As he drives them to the bar in his Camaro, they find the place was packed. Steve helped him point out a parking space at the very end. Billy could already feel the toxic fumes in the air as he stepped through the door of the bar. It was a casual small place, he has been here before. That wasn’t what worried him. 

Steve fell in behind him, he was wearing a soft red sweater that cost way too much for the scene and blue jeans that hugged his hips. He forgoes the tables and crowded standing dance floor to scan the bar looking for Robin. 

Billy was here for Steve, but they both were here for her. Steve explained a tad more of the romantic comedy plot on the ride over. There was a blond girl who slipped her phone number in the tip jar at scoops. A girl who whispered low to Robin about how this bar was having a special pride night, with a wiggle of her brow. Robin was giddy to go. Steve wanted to support her. Billy wanted to bolt. 

“Over here, dingus!” Robin waved them on a ways to the end of the bar. She was sitting flush against a blond girl who's hair was tucked over one ear. Billy could admit she was nice- beautiful even, he could admit he was happy for Robin, but he wasn’t about to admit how sour he was feeling. 

Thankfully for him Steve was close by. He ordered two beers without asking, already knew Billy’s favorite full flavor dark colored monstrosity. He pressed small against the side of the bar and introduced himself from over Billy’s shoulder. 

“Hey, I’m Steve; we meet at scoops, though. You might not remember me?”

The girl giggled. “Jackie. And I for sure remember you. You’ve got an amazing head of hair, how could I forget?”

That made Steve blush. Billy received his beer from the bartender and took a long gulp. But the uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away. 

Robin gets her and Jackie’s own fruity girl drinks before she ushers them over to an empty table. It was tucked in a quiet corner to make conversation easy. Billy couldn’t help it when he slowed in his steps and let Steve grab the chair closest to the wall. Billy wanted to keep his roommate in his sights that night, even if he was being paranoid. He let Steve grab one of the small plastic chairs next to the wall and Billy made a point of moving his chair closer. He sunk down and didn’t make any noise about Steve scooting his chair a little closer too. 

There was already a mass of people moving around on the dance floor, really just an area left empty in front of a stage the size of a soap box. But it was quaint. There was only mood music playing now, not yet for dancing. 

“I feel like I haven’t danced in years! Bill, please say you are going to dance with me?” Steve asks next to Billy. Close, his sing song voice right in his ear. 

“Let me get a few more beers in me, pretty boy. I’m going to need the courage to get up there next to those vintage dad moves you throw out.” Billy takes another hard gulp. His beer is already half gone. The dark brown liquid still cold and frothy. 

“Very, very funny! I don’t dad dance,” Steve tries to retort but he laughs as he says it. Robin is laughing too. And pressing her fingers against Jackie’s fingers on the table top. 

Billy focuses on Steve and watches as he takes a small sip from his glass. His beer is barely touched, but Billy wasn’t joking about needing more for the dancing. The thought of the lights turning down, heavy music thrumming in his veins while hot bodies press themselves around him, around Steve, getting closer and closer, makes his legs shake. It makes his arms ache with how much he wants to dance. 

So he drinks again, bottoming out the glass bottle. Then he snatches Steve’s from him and loves the way he isn’t angry. Steve just smiles, rolls his pretty eyes. 

“So what’s this night exactly?” Robin asks. 

Jackie looks up from their fingers on the table. Moves to wrap her hand around her drink. “Oh, it’s really cool. They call it a night of inclusion. Anyone from the LGBT and even like plus is welcome here tonight. They are getting ready for a drag show on the stage too; it’s really, really cool.” 

“Like plus,” Steve repeats her. His tone is a question. And his voice is low and shaky. Billy feels sour. 

“Oh sure,” Jackie pulls her hand back and flicks her hair over her shoulder. Billy watches her closely. “All the wacky, crazy new genders and flags they are coming out with now ‘a days.”

The table stays silent for a tick. The mood music not doing a very good job of setting a mood. Before Steve leans forward slightly, his face is up in a smile that is pretty, he’s always so pretty, but Billy can see it’s forced. 

Billy slides the glass that was Steve’s beer and is now empty across the table. He leaves it in front of Steve’s twitching fingers. Blocking off what he was about to say. 

“That really sounds swell, the queer community coming together with every letter in the damn alphabet, right?” Billy says. 

Jackie replies with a laugh. She isn’t picking up on Billy’s dangerous tone. Not in the way that Robin is. She watches him lick his tongue across his teeth. 

“Yeah pride is great,” Robin’s voice sounds dumb as she scrambles to interrupt Billy. “I’m sure there is every gender and sex orientation here and they are all safe and happy!” She sounded like a Sesame Street skit. 

Steve mumbles something that sounds like Robin’s name, but Billy is keeping his eyes locked on Jackie. She takes a drink and continues. “Sure, all inclusive. Gay, lesbians, and the cute kids who can’t make up their mind. Still experimenting and fucking around. Been there,” she pushes her arm against Robin’s. Still laughing. 

Billy’s not laughing. “Fucking around, that’s kinda crude? Isn’t there that sexuality that doesn’t fuck, ah...,” he pokes one finger against his ear and circles, digging around for the word. Digging for a fight. “Asexuality.” He leers. “Kids like that welcome here?”

Jackie’s smile finally falters. “I guess, but they pretty well don’t exist. I mean- it’s really just a fad.” 

Behind him Steve let’s out a groan. Sure he wants to talk. If his hand wrapping around Billy’s bicep says anything. But Billy isn’t finished. 

“Didn’t know someone’s identity could be a fad?” He gives his fakest chuckle and meanest sneer. 

Jackie furrows her brows. Robin sitting next to her has bugged out eyes, she takes her fruity drink and gulps it down in one panicked swig. “Why do you care so much? You look straight to me,” Jackie asks. 

“I look straight?” Billy flattens his hand across his chest. Dragging the ‘I’ hard like he can’t believe it.

“Yeah, you're hot, normal, just a normal passing guy.” Jackie isn’t keeping up. 

Billy raps his knuckles against the table loudly. Behind him Steve jumps from the noise. His hand grips harder against Billy and pulls him back. A part of Billy wants to follow, wants to turn and press his bared teeth into Steve’s pretty hair, but he can’t. Not when he’s this angry. 

“I bet a pretty thing like you couldn’t fathom the idea of someone who doesn’t want to fuck you,” Billy’s voice is a low slithering thing that makes the air cold. “I bet you’ve never had a man who wanted anything else, huh?” 

Then a hard splash and Billy’s shut up, hard, with the rest of Jackie’s vodka and cranberry drink to his face. Billy took it without flinching, not his first time getting juice and alcohol thrown at him. He just exhales softly, blinking his eyelashes a few times, before looking down at the red drink staining his shirt. 

Jackie’s already up from the table though. Sputtering and cursing anything she could think of as she gathers her purse to stomp away. Robin is reaching out for her and following right on her tail. 

Next to him Steve is quiet. His hand long dropped from their touch. Billy starts shrugging off his denim jacket, not wanting the fabric to get stained, and grumbles something that would have been a funny quip; when Steve pushes his chair out. The noise was loud and screeching, did a good job of getting Billy’s attention. He watched as Steve stormed out before scampering after him. 

“Steve,” he called meekly after the boy. “Hey, pretty boy,” but he didn’t turn around. Steve makes a line for the door of the bar. Pushes the heavy wood open with a flourish that has Billy’s stomach sinking. 

He follows outside, and Steve has found Robin to stand next to. They all three stand on the sidewalk. Robin looking off down the street like she wants to run after Jackie who’s long gone, and Steve who looks like he wants to comfort robin as much as he wants to sink into the cracks of the concrete under his feet and escape just as Jackie had. 

Billy still has a cocktail dripping down his face. He throws his jacket to Steve’s chest, muttering “don’t want to get this dirty,” when he really basks in the way it makes Steve’s eyes turn towards him. 

Billy watches those eyes blink back tears. They are soft and somber and pink, sad, and Billy made them that way. 

There’s a knife in Billy’s gut that’s twisting. Maybe he should have let Steve stab him and not gone tonight at all. Especially if he was the toxic thing that ruined the night. But Billy scoffs at that- wiping a hand down his face dramatically and flicking the liquid away. 

“What the fuck crawled up her skirt and died?” He cracked. 

Robin let out a furious groan that started quiet but grew to a shrill sound. Her hands two fists that clutched at her shoulder length strawberry blond hair, pulled, then let go. “What crawled-? Ugh! Shut up, Hargrove!” 

“Come on, Buckley, we were just having a conversation about simple shit and she said- well? You heard what she said! Am I just supposed-,”

“Yes,” Robin turned to him and took a step. Steve was standing in between them with his head down not paying attention. Billy tried to keep his focus on Robin but couldn’t when Steve shrugged on Billy’s denim jacket and pushes his hands inside. 

“Yes, Hargrove,” she repeated, pulling his attention, “people are allowed to have opinions about shit. And people are allowed to be dumb and need education. Not talked down at or intimidated by some jack ass in a bar!” 

Billy leveled her with a pointed, insulted look. “Jack ass? I’m a jack ass? Did you hear what she said about asexuals- about Steve? She’s a bitch-,” 

“That’s not something you get to decide after ten minutes of knowing someone!” Robin yelled back. “And you’re the one who drank two beers down like water and trapped her-,”

“Trapped her?” Billy parroted back. 

“Yeah- trapped her to prove nothing about anything, just showing your dick size!”

“That bitch wishes she could see my huge dick,” Billy matched her loud voice, bringing the argument to a boil, making Robin scoff and screw up her nose, “Y’know I doubt she’s even a lesbian-,”

“Shut up,” Steve’s voice was soft under the hollering but he kept his words steady, “shut up!” he repeated louder. 

Both Robin and Billy shut up, their arguments dying on their tongues as they turned to Steve. He was standing with his back rim rod straight. Standing taller than both of them, and bundled up angrily with Billy’s bulky jacket on making him seem even bigger. 

Steve takes a turn watching Robin, then his eyes slide to Billy. Their brown tones are swimming with embarrassment and tears. Their darkness glistening amber and reflecting the neon lights of the bar they are fighting outside of. Steve takes a breath. 

“Bill, I don’t think I asked you fight any of these battles for me.” He starts slowly. Darkly. Not breaking eye contact. “I’m asexual and I’m living my life how I choose. If people don’t get that, it’s not my- or your problem. I’m proud of myself. Get that? I don’t need a jack ass in a bar defending my honor, okay?” 

Billy opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The only thing that might come out is vomit and blood with how he feels the beer he drank too quick and his cracked up broken heart swimming together in his fished hooked chest cavity. 

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to retort, he spins on his heels, his hair fluffy and wild in anger, and stomps off towards the parking lot. 

Leaves the two of them in stunned silence. Billy feels like he should bend over and lick his wounds like a kicked cat. Instead he just stands. Thinks about how he left the keys to the Camaro in his jacket pocket that Steve now has. 

They both jump slightly as the revving of Billy’s loud engine makes the scene more apparent. Billy listens as Steve drives off with his car into the night. And the best part is, he’s not even mad. 

There’s another stretch of not talking. The music to the show starts inside the bar behind them. A joyful noise that only marinates inside of Billy how much he caused all this. How his face is still sticky with the drink thrown at him. 

“Congrats, jack ass,” Robin talks first. “We both got dumped on the sidewalk outside a bar. Really good look for us.”

Billy breaks his eyes off where Steve used to be standing and drops them down by Robin’s feet. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Buckley, I’m sure the door is gonna be locked when I walk back. And I don’t have my keys... do you think?” Billy grinds out the words through clenched teeth. 

Robin pulls out her own keys from her jean’s pocket, throwing them up in a mock of power over him. She’s contemplating. Billy’s bracing himself for the answer. Getting ready to think up a place to sleep outside, it’s not like it would be the first time in his life he’s been forced to. 

But then Robin caves, closing her eyes in a sigh and motioning with a nod over her shoulder towards her parked car. “Let’s go, I’m not going to make you sleep on a park bench. Even if I think you deserve it after that performance.”

Billy can’t help but laugh. He agrees with her. “Thanks-,”

“But you are so sleeping on the couch. And you have to take a shower as soon as we get there because you smell to high heaven like vodka already, I don’t want to imagine what that plus your gross cologne would do to my couch.” 

“Yeah, mom, whatever you say goes,” Billy puts his hands up in submission. His smile loopy on his tired face. 

Robin looks at him the way she did just a few days ago at the Starcourt food court. Like he’s missing something. But Billy’s tired, and buzzed, and hurt inside and out. Sticky with a girl’s drink splashed on his face. So he quietly slips his hands in his back pockets and follows Robin to her car. 

——

The next morning Billy is awakened by a throw pillow to his stomach. He huffs out a breath, eyes opened wide, and clutches where Robin swung the thrift store find on his gut. Even just waking up, it’s easy for him to wrestle it from her grasp and yank. She lets it go, scoffing at his pompous arrogance at winning the fight that wasn’t even happening. 

“Get up, I’ve got some running around to do and I’ll be dammed if I let a stray dog stay sleeping on my couch.” She says it without malice, with a tilt in her voice that’s a joke. 

Billy groggily sits up fully on the couch. He’s shirtless and his hair is a frizzy mess from sleeping on it wet. He’s got his jeans open and unzipped to let his dick breath but thankfully, Robin turns tail and leaves before the sheet he’s using as a blanket moves and shows off the goods. 

He runs a hand over his face. Last night coming back to him in waves. The wine he shared with Robin before they went to sleep still sitting out an empty bottle on the coffee table in front of him. She gave him more advice, more lectures about how Steve looked at him just like he dreamed. Billy growled, not believing her for a second. 

“If I’m a dog what type of dog am I?” He calls into the tiny apartment. It’s a studio, one bedroom thing, good for her art and writings and inspirations. Bad for privacy. So Billy stands up to zip up his pants as she calls back a reply from the bathroom. 

“I don’t know, something big and dumb: a blood hound? A saint bernard? A doberman?” Her voice increases an octave with each insult, the same laugher and fondness in it. 

Billy buttons up his shirt and goes to toe back into his boots. He’s got to get out of here before she looses that fondness. 

She comes back into the living room. A pair of yellow colored circle sunglasses on her nose, squinting behind them as Billy stands fully dressed ready to bolt out the door. “Yeah I’m gonna lock in my answer as doberman. You ever seen the movie Oliver and Company?” 

Billy’s got his hand on the door knob. He turned just slightly over his shoulder to shoot her a look, unlit cigarette perched on his lips moving with each breath. “Nah,” he says softly. 

Her eyes are cloudy, it’s from the glasses and nothing else. “It’s one of Steve’s favorites. Just came out to the theaters at the mall.”

Billy nods, works the cigarette butt in his teeth. “Thanks for letting me stay, Buckley. Catch ya later.” 

He doesn’t stay for dating advice, for more dreams and bullshit. Billy trudges down the street with his hands shoved in his back pockets. His shirt smells like the same vodka cranberry from last night. It makes his walking quicker. 

Before he knows, he’s back at their apartment, the Camaro isn’t parked outside in its spot spray painted with the apartment’s number so Steve must be out scooping ice cream. Good, Billy considers, because he hasn’t decided on what to do as an apology yet. 

As soon as he goes through the door, blessed to be left unlocked, he strips his shirt off and throws it and his jeans into the dirty clothes basket. He stands in the middle of the living room in his boxers tight across his thighs, each muscle flexing with trying to fire an idea off in his brain. Steve isn’t there but he will be soon. And he’s going to want to be welcomed into his apartment, his home, not crowded by some jack ass with something to prove. 

Billy runs a hand through his wild hair. Scans around the place, when he spots something on the coffee table. One of his paperback novels sitting on top of one of Steve’s pulp magazines. He recognizes the screeching cat photo as Pet Cemetery before he even has to pick it up. But he does. And instantly he’s reminded about how he was just reading this out loud to Steve not too long ago. Making Steve’s broken and bird like heart rate steady and clam, having the strength to do that with his voice, having the love to make this couch an area of safety. 

A safe space; he clutched the paperback in his fist and did a little spin as he got an idea. 

Billy rushed himself around the apartment. He knocked over the cushions on the couch to stand upwards, dragged the kitchen chairs in to form a half circle, dug into the hall closet to find a pile of linens they leave stashed for when someone stays over. They're a dark purple color, maybe made slightly tie dye from constant washing in the shared apartment machines that sometimes have traces of bleach, but the dark color is perfect. 

He even scrounged around the bottom of the closet for the small box of Christmas decorations, yanking out a messy wrapped bundle of lights. 

Billy kept his bottom lip in his teeth the whole time he worked. Tying knots and ripping slices of duct tape off with his teeth, even pulling out a hammer and thin nails for the lights. He worked up a sweat even in his boxers. Glancing down at himself he figured he really should change before Steve got back. 

But then of course, like striking up a cigarette when waiting for your food at a restaurant, as soon as Billy went into his room to slip on a pair of dirty sweats the front door jingled open. Billy stepped out of his room cautiously, his hands working on pulling down the hem of a well loved muscle shirt. 

Steve was standing quietly in the entry way, his hands paused in the air mid throwing is jacket and bag down, paused as if Billy pressed a button to get him that way. His pretty face frozen too in a wide gasp. 

“Steve,” Billy felt the need to talk, to explain himself. Just incase Steve wasn’t shocked in a good way, if his jaw hanging open wasn’t a good surprise. “I know I was a jack ass last night, as you and Robin so nicely put it. There’s no excuse for how I acted. Zero.” 

With his words starting Steve moves again, dropping his jacket and bag discarded on the floor and then using his toes to shove off his white sneakers. He glanced at Billy one time to let him know he was listening but mostly couldn’t pull his eyes away from the living room. 

Billy had scraped and taped together a sprawling fort that took up the entire space. Two sets of those old purple colored sheets propped up running from the back of the couch to the kitchen table’s chairs making a huge inside. Draped on top to make it darker and structured, was a patchwork quilt given to them by Mrs. Henderson when they moved in. Then folded over the front, working as a makeshift door, was another flat sheet- this one printed with thick stripes of black and grey that was a thin scraggly thing Billy’s kept with him all the way from California. 

It’s pulled back with a throw pillow on the bottom to keep the flap propped open. Let’s Steve look inside at the darkness and the coziness. The way Billy arranged the couch cushions and brought every pillow and soft throw blanket he could find to pad the space. Wanted it to be homely, a cozy nest away from anything that would hurt or cut or insult. Even Billy himself. 

The Christmas lights are the only lights on inside the apartment, other than Billy’s light still on and framing a glow over his back as he dumbly stands in front of it. They are a gentle yellow glow that gives everything a thin layer of morning dew. Makes it blurry. Makes it perfect. 

Steve goes up to the entrance left open and slowly drops to his knees. He timidly peers inside, his pretty brown eyes working the place over, taking in every fold of fabric and fluffed pillow. Billy watches as Steve pokes the sides with his hands, testing them for a second, before crawling inside. 

And that takes Billy’s breath away. In the way he watches Steve accept his apology gift, dips his fluffy brown hair to disappear into the secure fort walls with an ease and comfort that sets Billy’s graying hairs at ease. 

Billy steps out of his doorway and around to the front of the fort to look inside. His breath catches as he see Steve’s picked up one of the pillows and has it laying it over his crossed legs. Letting it comfort him, keep him warm, plays with the hem of it. 

Billy wonders if Steve knows that’s the pillow from Billy’s bed. Must be dirty with his sweat and hair spray. Must smell like him an awful lot. He can’t bring himself to ask, though, just lowers his head so his blush is hidden and clears his throat. 

“I just,” Billy starts to explain more. He looks up at Steve to see pretty eyes on him, so Billy looks down again. Cups the back of his neck nervously before continuing. “Just wanted to make something nice for you to come home to. To feel wanted, protected, safe. It’s what I tried to do at the bar, so I mean... if you hate it and want to throw a drink in my face I’ll take it. I’ll pull this down and put everything back you won’t even notice-,”

“Bill,” Steve scolds him fondly. His voice full of softness that gets Billy’s eyes snapping back up. “This is super cool, and super sweet. You didn’t have to do all this,” Steve waves his arms around. There’s enough space while he’s sitting down to do it. Billy didn’t waste time with building a small fort.  
“I was going to forgive you the second I saw you, Bill. Of course I was. I knew you did that to try and protect me. Honestly, it was a little cute.”

Billy felt his cheeks flush. 

Steve pulled at the fraying corner of Billy’s pillow, his eyes maddeningly flicking up to his, then back down. “You’re cute when you are a jerk, and that’s maybe a mean or dumb thing to say but-,”

“You ain’t dumb,” Billy demands shortly. His voice hot but not heated. 

Steve’s brown eyes flick up from the pillow’s thread in his fingers to examine Billy’s. He sighs, loosing himself in the wonderland rabbit hole look in those pretty eyes, and Billy slinks down to sit on his knees. Their carpet is nice, only a year old, still stiff on his knees as he sits like he’s begging. Billy watches Steve from under thick eyelashes, internally forcing words into sentences before he proves himself to be a jackass again. 

“You’re... amazing, Steve. Just- god I don’t even know how to describe it. You’ve got such a big heart, manage to fit everyone in it. Even fuck ups like me who don’t deserve it,” Billy takes a breath. Keeps his breathing in check as he plays with the edge of his muscle shirt, the armpits on it cut down the length almost to the bottom, he pulls and twists the baggy fabric in his hands like a stress ball. 

“And god, everyone likes you right back. Everyone loves you right back. Even when they have a snow balls chance in Hell of getting your attention... they love you right back.”

Steve stayed quiet for a second, judging Billy’s heart weighed out on the golden clad scales. He grips the pillow in a white hot hold as he worries his bottom lip. Swollen red, like the blood wants to pop out, Billy wants to grab his jaw and tell him to stop hurting himself. Instead he only watches. Waits. Waits for those lips to reply. 

“Bill,” he whispers. 

Billy gulps. “Yeah?”

“Do you... are you in love with me?” Steve’s words are so quiet they might be lost. But Billy’s listening, straining his ears. 

He balls his hands into fists on his bent and begging knees. “Yeah, Stevie, I am. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Steve laughs, his voice melodious and lovey and Billy’s world shattering around it. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t-,”

“God- you don’t! Bill, you don’t know!” Steve’s voice heightens, Billy winces. “You remember Mark?” Steve asks, his voice prickling like a porcupine. Like if Billy didn’t reply he would get stabbed. 

“Mark? Nah, can’t say I do,” Billy sighed. Of course he remembered. 

“The guy I broke up with and then you dropped my plant on his head?”

“In my defense, I’m sure I missed him with that plant, Steve, and he was an ass-,”

“Yeah he was an ass,” Steve huffed, “and you were an ass for killing my plant! But, I only thought that until you bought me a new one.” Then brown eyes wrinkled in on the sides, his head titled so his long chocolate colored hair cascaded down over his shoulder, and Billy’s breath stopped as Steve kept talking. 

“You bought me a tiny little cactus in a tiny pot half-dead. Like you knew I could take this prickly thing and bring it back to life. And you shrugged it off like it was the most normal gesture in the world. The best gift I’ve ever gotten, and you thought you were just being nice.”

Steve gripped the pillow again as his eye brows furrowed together, wrinkled in that prefect skin Billy couldn't keep his eyes off of. “I cried on the phone to Robin for two hours that night! She said just talk to him Steve just ask him, but she doesn’t get it! I knew that I loved you so much, but I knew you would never want to be with me!” He spat the last word like it sickened him to say it, me, he gagged on idea of himself. 

Billy leaned forward and opened his mouth to scold him, how could he say that, when his own pillow gets reared back and thrown in his face. Steve’s skinny, but he has a hell of an arm. The pillow cracks Billy back on his ass. Sprawling out on the carpet with one leg crumbled under him and the other helplessly bent up at the knee. Billy’s hands scrambled to clutch the pillow to his face before it hit the ground. He brought it to his chest, smelling the fabric absentmindedly, sucking in breath after breath of the way his shitty hair spray mixed with the smell of scoops ahoy and Steve’s expensive preppy cologne. 

“And this whole time, you really loved me?” Steve was sitting alert in the fort, the purples swallowing him up in waves of nighttime sea. The Christmas lights overhead shimmering stars in the void of the sky. It all pales to how fucking pretty his eyes looked right before he cries. 

And Billy can see that, knows that, has the tells for when Steve’s upset and ready to cry in his head like a catalogue. And of course he does, because he fucking loves Steve Harrington. 

“Steve,” he whispers but the words stop. Saying anything else felt so scary. He was so out of place for the first time in a long time, he felt like crying himself. 

The silence lingers, Billy rocked back on his ass shivering and Steve working the muscles in his long neck trying to decide if he wants to cast Billy into the fire and brimstone or let him have a pair of white wings. 

Finally Steve sits back, scoots over to one side of the fort and curls his legs up in front of him warmly. He turns his head, facing the ground as he runs his hands through his long brown hair, and lets out a pretty sigh. 

“Hey, Bill… do you mind…,” Steve’s voice is quiet. But Billy knows. The request doesn’t have to be said. 

“Can I come in?” Billy asks. 

Steve nods.

Billy crawls toward him slowly, his pillow still clutched in one hand. He settles on the other side of the fort the same way he keeps to his side of the couch. Watching Steve desperately as the other keeps his head down. 

“Steve,” he repeats when he gets comfortable. Brown hair rustles but he doesn’t look up. Just nods that he’s listening. “I don’t, look, ah-,” Billy struggles to get the words, wrestles with his pillow before slamming it down on the ground between them. The noise gets Steve to look up so he supposes it worked.

“I don’t want to fuck, okay! I’ve had a lot of sex back in high school- a lot, and I’m not bragging, right? I’m honestly done with that! I want someone who I know I can trust, and who makes me smile, and laugh, and who gets me- even the most ugly parts of me no one else gets.”

Billy pauses to collect his thoughts, pushes aside the thought that he must sound like an idiot. He sucks in a deep breath when he notices Steve’s got one hand moving over the pillow towards where his own is sitting. Let’s it out in a groan as he continues talking. 

“And all this time it’s been you!” he blurts out. 

Watches Steve’s hand fist the pillow an inch in front of his. Swallows thick as he turns to look up again at those pretty brown eyes, faces the waves that he’ll gladly let crash him into rocks and kill him off. 

“So yeah Stevie, pretty boy, I’ve loved you so long I can’t remember when I haven’t. And sex or no sex, whatever, doesn’t matter to me. Because it’s always been you... and it’s always going to be you.”

Steve’s smiling, no waves or rocks, just smiling as he moves his hand to lay over Billy’s. Feels so gentle and warm he has to take a breath to keep from knocking himself out. 

“Bill,” Steve says, leans in the short distance in the cozy blanket fort made just for him, “I love you, too,” and he reaches his hand up to cup Billy’s jaw textured from a night of not saving. Steve’s fingers are soft on the coarse hair, scratching his skin, Billy feels like pulling away because he doesn’t want to hurt Steve, but he wants to stay so badly. Wants to kiss those lips with every broken emotion he’s got in his tiny little heart. 

He gasps when Steve brushes his lips over his like he can’t believe it. And he can’t. Until Steve’s kissing him. Soft and warm, gentle and easy, dreamy in every way Billy could have dreamed him. But better, so much better, because it was real. Steve loved him too. 

Billy allows himself to touch like he’s wanted to the second he sat down on their sofa the first month they lived together. 

He wraps his arms around the smallest line of Steve’s waist and pulls him close, turns his body without breaking their lips as they softly work again and again over each other, settles Steve into his lap where he fits so perfect between Billy’s crossed legs. Steve sighs out between them, letting go a breath he’s been holding. Let’s himself settle in Billy’s lap, folding his legs up to make himself small and wrapping his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

“It’s really okay, you being with a guy like me?” Steve asks timidly. 

“I love you, pretty boy,” Billy nudges his nose into soft brown hair, finally. Closes his eyes and takes a long breath like he’s hitting the best drug. “I love you, get that? I love your voice and your cooking and your shitty magazines and your shitty job, and your fantastic hair. I love everything about you. I’m so gone on you, it’s crazy, babe.” 

“I love you, too, Bill,” he sighs, voice muffled by the thin cotton of Billy’s muscle shirt as he burrows his nose into the warmth there. He holds, and lets himself be held, in the safety of Billy’s arms. 

Billy decides the blanket fort ain’t gonna come down for as long as he can get away with it.


End file.
